


snow

by bootyshortskeef



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootyshortskeef/pseuds/bootyshortskeef
Summary: They’ve fought before. They’ve had minor disagreements over what to have for dinner, or whether or not five more minutes in bed is really necessary. They’ve shattered each other’s hearts in parking garages and hotel rooms, and then they’ve picked up the pieces together.We’ve fought before, Yuuri tells himself. But something feels different about this. Yuuri can’t find the way to reconcilement, can’t find the thread of compromise, because that’s what started this all in the first place.





	snow

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this as a WIP since last summer and finally just decided on where I wanted it to end. Sorry if any formatting goes wonky since I'm posting this on my phone.
> 
> Thanks to [ springofviolets ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springofviolets) and [ keithhasaknife ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmot/pseuds/keithhasaknife) for the beta way back when.

The snow is falling with light, nearly soundless taps against the trees and crisp layer of snow beneath. There’s no wind, and the clouded sky is pale purple, almost glowing from the city lights shining against it. The air is crisp and bites at Yuuri’s cheeks and nose, but the rest of him is warm. Victor had made sure he was well-equipped for Russian winters. _I want to make sure you’re warm, Yuuri_ , he’d said.Yuuri reminded him that he’s experienced bitter winters before and joked that Victor really just liked dressing him in pretty things; but he knows that both things are true. Victor wants him to be happy and safe here in St. Petersburg. Victor also thinks Yuuri deserves to be adorned in luxurious and well-tailored fabrics, things that look even half as beautiful as he finds Yuuri. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about it now.

  
He looks up at the trees. The hoarfrost sparkles in the soft orange glow from the park light. Just three weeks ago, Yuuri was wearing unseasonably short pants so he could tease Victor with cute socks. A week later, the cold and snow came back, and everything went to shit.

  
They’ve fought before. They’ve had minor disagreements over what to have for dinner, or whether or not five more minutes in bed is really necessary. They’ve shattered each other’s hearts in parking garages and hotel rooms, and then they’ve picked up the pieces together. _We’ve fought before_ , Yuuri tells himself. But something feels different about this. Yuuri can’t find the way to reconcilement, can’t find the thread of compromise, because that’s what started this all in the first place.

 

* * *

  
The past two weeks had been rough on them both. Victor was stressed and overworked from coaching Yuuri while trying to get his own training done. On top of training, Victor was doing choreography for the both of them. It was too much, and something had to give eventually. It was when Victor had almost fainted in the shower that Yuuri resolved to take matters into his own hands. The incident had scared him, and Victor was just brushing it off as if it were nothing. But by trying to fix things, Yuuri had inadvertently made it worse.

  
A few times, Yuuri had gone to the rink early so that he could get some practice in before Victor got there. That way, he could leave early so he could take care of things at home, and Victor would be able to focus less on Yuuri and more on himself. They had argued about it more than once. Then on their rest day, Yuuri got up early and went to the rink. He didn’t say anything about it to Victor until he’d come home freshly showered and holding coffee.

  
Victor stood in the kitchen over a hot pan, deliberately avoiding Yuuri’s gaze. Yuuri could tell he was agitated but trying to keep it together. “So what, you want to coach yourself now?”

  
Yuuri shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

  
“Right. And that worked out well for you,” Victor said flatly.

  
The comment stung. Even though his season had been awful, he had fought so hard through everything. Besides, Yuuri’s life is different now. He’s in a better place, and he has Victor.

  
But things went like that between them after that argument. Yuuri tried to take care of both of them— he did all the cooking, cleaned the apartment, and trained as much as he could on his own in order to find the time to do all of those things. Victor kept insisting he was fine and thought that Yuuri was pushing him away.

  
Eventually, Victor had enough and confronted Yuuri about it.

  
“Yuuri, are you seeing someone else?”

  
“What? Victor! Of course not. Why would you think that?”

  
“I don’t know what else to think. It’s not like we’ve been having sex. You’re leaving at strange hours and coming home with wet hair on your rest days. What else could it be?”

  
Yuuri could see that Victor’s hands were shaking, and he felt his stomach drop. Yuuri knows he’s stupid for not realizing he would take everything as a rejection. He doesn’t even blame Victor for thinking maybe he’d found someone else. They had a routine, and they did most of it together. Yuuri’s behaviour was suspicious.

  
“I told you, Victor. I was at the rink.”

  
“But why? Why do you need to be at the rink by yourself all the time—without me? Please, Yuuri, tell me what’s going on, because I’m losing my mind. If you want to leave, then just tell me now.”

  
So Yuuri told him. He told him that he was trying to make things easier for Victor, that he was crashing and burning and couldn’t see it. But Victor didn’t hear any of that. All he could hear was that he was being shut out, that Yuuri didn’t need him, and that he was being left out of decisions that both of them should be making together.

  
“This is just like Barcelona, Yuuri. Don’t you care what I want?”

  
“Of course I do! That was different. I know I fucked up then, I know it was selfish. But this isn’t the same thing.”

  
“I know, I know. I’m tired, right?” Victor rolled his eyes. “I’ve been doing this longer than you, Yuuri. I know what I can handle. You don’t get to decide that for me.”

  
“If you’re too stubborn to see when you’re hurting yourself then yes, I do.”

  
“Right now, the only person hurting me is you, Yuuri.”

  
Yuuri could feel tears streaming down his face. He hated it. “Then tell me! What am I supposed to do to fix things?”

  
“There’s nothing to fix. Things were working just fine before.”

  
Of course that’s not true. Victor was working himself so hard that even his performance was suffering. Everyone could see it. “You’re wrong, Victor. You know you are.”

“It obviously doesn’t matter what I think anyway. Just do whatever you want, Yuuri.” Victor went into the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Yuuri dressed and headed out into the snow.

 

* * *

  
Yuuri shuffles over to a bench and clears the layer of snow so he can sit down. Even in his long wool coat, he can feel the cold seeping into his skin. He stays anyway. He just needs time to think, time to breathe. But the anxiety is there, clawing at his stomach. Even though Victor is angry, Yuuri is sure he will worry. He checks his phone and finds that he’s missed several text messages.

  
_11:03 PM_  
Yuuri, please come back

  
_11:07 PM_  
it’s snowing a lot Yuuri. are u okay? please call

  
_11:42 PM_  
Yuuri, we don’t have to talk right now. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I love you.

  
_11:51 PM_  
I’m sorry, Yuuri. for everything. I just wanted to do it all for you. I didn’t realize it was hurting us.

  
_12:01 AM_  
_i_ m coming to look for you

  
There were six missed calls and two voice messages on top of that. Yuuri’s guilt feels like a punch to the gut. He’d turned off his ringer because he just needed to think. He needed space, needed to do _something_ , like he used to. Before Victor, before he came here, before he suddenly had everything he’d ever dreamed for. Yuuri feels tears threatening to fall.

  
It’s so _much_. Victor gives him so many things—things that don’t come in crushed velvet or leather or expensive wool. He shares his experience, his skills, his heart, his body, his soul, his whole dorky and passionate self. Victor calls it “life” and “love”. He makes it sound so simple.

  
He takes a deep breath and dials. Victor picks up immediately.

  
“Yuuri?”

  
“Vitya. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry, I—I just needed to think. I’m fine, okay?”

  
“Where are you now? I’ll come get you.”

  
Part of Yuuri doesn’t really want him to. He wants to keep sitting here under the quiet snow, where time seems to stop, and there aren’t any fights or hurt feelings. But he’s also cold, and he’s tired, and he wants Victor’s warmth, wants to be inside of him so badly it hurts. So he tells him, and then he waits.

  
He hears Victor’s footsteps, soft and slow against the fresh snow. When he looks up, Yuuri can see that Victor’s been crying. He loves and hates it all at once. It’s not Yuuri’s fault. Victor just looks so pretty when he cries. And usually, it only happens when he comes undone under Yuuri’s hands. It’s rare that Victor ever cries for any other reason. Yuuri forces himself to look at Victor, to face the damage he’s wrought. Victor’s hands are in his pockets, his coat is unbuttoned, and he’s forgotten his scarf. His face is blotchy, his lashes are covered in frost, and he looks—well, cold.

  
Yuuri stands and cups both of Victor’s cheeks, thumbs catching his stray tears. “Vitka,” he chides before taking off his own scarf and wrapping it securely around Victor’s neck. He plunks his fur cap on Victor’s head and then starts buttoning up Victor’s coat. “Did you forget your gloves?”

  
“I was so worried, I—Yuuri,” he falters as Yuuri slides his own gloves off and onto Victor’s cold hands, letting his thumb linger over Victor’s ring.

  
Yuuri brings the gloved hand to his lips and kisses the ring through the soft leather. “Let’s go home. I’ll drive, okay?”

  
The drive home is quiet and filled with the tension of everything being left unsaid. Yuuri wants to hold him, to kiss away all of the hurt, to make love to him until they both forget what it was they were even fighting about. On the way up to their floor, Victor brushes his fingers lightly against Yuuri’s. It’s so faint that it could almost be accidental, but Yuuri knows better and twines their fingers together firmly.

  
When they get in the apartment, Yuuri takes off his coat and boots and then helps Victor with his own. Victor does this for Yuuri often. It’s not like Yuuri expects it; it’s just that Victor likes doing it for him. But tonight, Victor doesn’t protest or insist on doting on Yuuri. It’s a small but significant gesture, like an admission of his own vulnerability. When their coats and shoes are put away, Yuuri pulls him into a hug. “You’re so cold, Vitenka.”

  
“Yuuri. Yuuri, don’t leave like that again, please,” he chokes out, and he starts crying hard. “I was so worried.”

  
“I know. I’m sorry, Vitya. I didn’t even think—I guess I’m just used to it. I used to run to the rink, or to Minako’s if I just needed, I don’t know. Quiet, I guess.” It’s the truth, even as he realizes how selfish it is. For a long time, Yuuri thought he was fighting on his own, when really, he was just shutting everyone out, immersing himself in skating, trying to propel himself to his next goal.

  
Yuuri is lucky. He’s lucky anyone ever put up with him before Victor came barreling into his life, so shining and luminous that he could finally see what he’d had all along.

“I should have called. It was thoughtless of me.” He kisses Victor’s cheek, which is still icy cold against his lips. “Come on,” he says and lifts Victor into his arms.

  
“ _Yuuri_ ,” he gasps, like it’s the first time, like he doesn’t do this at least once a week—even while things have been so tense between them, because Victor is always exhausted and keeps falling asleep on the couch.

  
Yuuri carries him to their bed and then turns on the space heater and starts to undress Victor. Maybe he should be utilitarian about this, he thinks, and just put Victor into some warm pajamas and tuck him in. But he takes his time instead, leaving lingering kisses against his skin and rubbing the warmth back into his limbs. Yuuri is kissing his way down Victor’s belly when he suddenly gasps and grips Yuuri’s hair.

  
“ _Yuuri_.”

  
He looks up at Victor, who is staring down at him through his silver lashes. His face is still flushed, only now it’s not from the cold. “Okay?” Yuuri asks. He knows that the unspoken truce they’ve made tonight is still tentative and fragile, and he doesn’t want to push.

  
“Yes.”

  
Yuuri finishes undressing Victor slowly, wanting to drag this out as long as possible. He wants to hold onto this moment, because he doesn’t know what the next will bring. By the time all of his clothes are finally in a pile on the floor, Victor’s skin is hot, and he’s making breathy little gasps. “Let me take care of you,” Yuuri tells him. After the last two weeks, he half expects an argument or a protest. But maybe Victor is starting to get it, or maybe his own need has just become too great, because he just parts his legs a little wider so that Yuuri can settle in between them and wrap his hand around Victor’s hardening cock.

  
Yuuri draws this out too, licking and sucking Victor until he’s shaking and moaning his name, _Yuuri_ , _Yuuri_.

  
“Wait, Yuuri, not like this, please.” Yuuri pulls back and looks up at Victor. “Need you. I need you inside me.”

  
He strips his own clothes off quickly, opting to leave the striptease for another night. In truth, Yuuri needs this just as much as Victor. He pushes Victor back against the mattress and grinds against him.

  
“Yuuri, please.”

  
“How do you want this?”

  
“Like this. Wanna see you.”

  
Usually, Yuuri likes to take Victor apart piece by piece, teasing him to the edge and keeping him there until it’s too much for them both. Tonight, they’re both too desperate for it.

  
“ _Victor_ ,” he moans. It’s been too long since they’ve done this. It’s overwhelming, and Yuuri has to fight not to start thrusting right away. Victor’s eyes are closed, his pretty silver lashes fluttering as he relaxes around Yuuri. He’s so handsome. Yuuri suddenly realizes they haven’t kissed yet, and he leans down to capture Victor’s lips with his own. It’s slow, but heated and raw. Victor kisses him back like it’s the first time, like it’s the last.

  
Yuuri starts thrusting, and Victor meets each one, like he can’t get close enough. His arms are wrapped tightly around Yuuri, fingers digging almost painfully into his shoulders. It’s so good, and he’s missed this so much. Yuuri’s not always great at saying what he needs to, and so sometimes he chooses to say it instead with his body—through skating or through sex. But skating has been the source of their conflict, and they haven’t touched each other like this or anything close to it in two weeks. Like this, he can show Victor how much he loves him through touch, kiss an apology into his skin, give him something he needs through their shared pleasure. “Vitya, you’re so good, so good for me.”

  
“Fuck me, Yuuri.”

  
“I’m already fucking you, Vitya,” he murmurs against his temple.

  
“Then do it harder,” he says with a harsh bite at Yuuri’s neck. It’s the first time in too long that Victor has demanded anything from him that wasn’t on the ice, so Yuuri doesn’t hold back. “God, _Yuuri_ ,” he moans. Victor touches Yuuri like he needs to feel him everywhere at once, like he’s afraid he’ll slip away. He pulls at Yuuri’s hair, grips bruises into his arms, marks his shoulders with his teeth.

  
They come together, with Victor’s nails in Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri’s fingers bruising Victor’s hips. It’s so good, their shared bliss like a balm for their wounds. They trade sweet, lazy kisses as they come back down to Earth, and Yuuri knows it will be alright.

  
Later, when Victor is lying almost on top of him with his head pressed against Yuuri’s neck, Yuuri tells him he’s sorry. “For leaving like that—and for not telling you what I was doing. I should have talked to you about it first.”

  
Victor sighs. “We’re bad at that, aren’t we? Talking."

  
“Mm. Sometimes.”

  
“I’m sorry too, Yuuri. I—” he hesitates. “I was angry because you didn’t think to ask me what I wanted.” _Again_ , he doesn’t say, but Yuuri knows he’s thinking about Barcelona. Victor would have missed skating, but he would have been perfectly content to give it up to keep coaching Yuuri. Going back to competition while coaching Yuuri was _his_ compromise. _This_ is Yuuri’s.

  
“I know. I guess I just wanted to get it sorted out first.”

  
“You wanted to fix things on your own. Yuuri, that’s not how it works.” Victor lifts Yuuri’s hand and kisses his ring. “We’re in this together. You can’t leave me out of decisions like that.”

  
Yuuri kisses Victor’s hair. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair of me. I guess I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I also knew we couldn’t keep going like that.”

  
“I thought maybe you didn’t want me to coach you anymore.”

  
“No, Vitya. You were so stressed out and so exhausted all the time. I didn’t want it to be like before. Before us. I didn’t want skating to become a burden to you.” Yuuri feels the sting of tears in his eyes and presses the heels of his hands against them, trying to hold them back. Yuuri knows that before he’d taken a season off—before _Yuuri_ —skating had become something joyless for Victor, that he’d given so much of himself to the sport that it felt like he had nothing left to give. “I didn’t want coaching me to be a burden to you either. So I thought maybe I could take some of the load off. It isn’t that I didn’t want you to coach me, Vitya. But I saw the look in your eyes when you skated at Nationals. You were so happy. And then when I came here—" he pauses, trying to get his breathing under control.

  
Victor just squeezes his hand tightly and waits patiently, not wanting to overwhelm Yuuri further. They’re both getting better at comfort, both giving and receiving.

  
“When I came here, you had to coach me too. And I’m selfish, Victor. I always want you for myself. Of course I want you to coach me. But you could hardly stand at the end of the day. Victor, you almost passed out in the shower. If I hadn’t been there—”

  
Victor kisses his jaw. “But you were.”

  
It’s not the point, but Victor is just trying to be reassuring, so Yuuri lets it go for now. “I still haven’t really asked you. What do you want, Victor?”

  
“I want—I want you. I want to skate with you, against you, and maybe even win. But I want you to win too. And I want to be the one to coach you to victory. I want to be by your side.”

  
“I want those things too, Vitya. But you can’t be by my side if you don’t take care of yourself—if you don’t let me take care of you sometimes. When you don’t let me, when you say you’re fine and you’re not, that’s not taking care of either of us.”

  
Victor sighs. “I guess I was trying to convince us both that everything really was okay. If it wasn’t, then—that would mean I’d failed you.”

  
Yuuri rolls Victor onto his side and cups his jaw with both hands. “Don’t you remember what I told you that day on the beach?”

  
“Of course I do.”

  
“Well?”

  
“You said you just wanted me to be Victor.”

  
Yuuri smiles. “Right. You don’t need to pretend for me. I love you for who you are, not because of your skating, not because of your coaching. Those things matter, because they brought us together. But they aren’t who you are to me. You’re so much more than that.”

  
“ _Yuuri_. Wow.” He puts his hands over top of Yuuri’s and kisses each palm. “I’m sorry, Yurochka.”

  
Yuuri blushes. “So am I. I just love you so much. I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you away. So let’s figure something out together, okay?”

* * *

  
It’s Yuri Plisetsky who comes up with the solution while they’re getting ready to warm up.

  
“Why does Katsudon keep coming to the rink without you?” he asks.

  
“Yurio, are you worried about my Yuuri? That’s so sweet,” he teases.

  
Yuri blushes. “Shut up! It’s not that. I just don’t want another screaming match in the middle of the rink while I’m trying to practice. It’s annoying.” He’s referring to Georgi and Anya, whose very loud breakup had been on display for what was a very crowded rink that day. “Plus you’re even more annoying about each other when you’re apart than when you’re together.”

  
Victor frowns at that. His performance was suffering from his exhaustion before; now, he’s still got the same problem, but for a different reason. His heart just isn’t in it without Yuuri around—especially not when things have been strained between them. He knows from video that Yuuri is struggling too.

  
“Well?”

  
Victor sighs. “Yuuri doesn’t think I should coach him fulltime anymore. He says it’s too much for me to handle while I’m competing. I don’t like to admit it, but I think he might be right.”

  
“So what, he’s just coaching himself?” Yuri scowls.

  
“Sort of.”

  
“You’re both stupid. Why don’t you just let Yakov coach him with you?”

  
Victor drops his skate guard. “What?”

  
Yuri rolls his eyes. “Lots of skaters have more than one coach. Idiot. Coaches can’t be in nine places at once. Even we have assistant coaches,” he gestures to Maya.

  
Victor and Yuuri both know this, of course. It’s just that it never occurred to them to consider it. Victor can’t help but laugh at it. Of course he and Yuuri would spend two weeks acting like the end was nigh when there was such a simple and obvious solution. It’s still not ideal, because frankly, both of them would rather that Victor devote his full attention to Yuuri. But there needs to be something they’re both willing to bend on, and this could be it.

  
Victor wraps his arms tightly around Yuri. “Yura. Thank you.”

  
Yuri shrugs Victor off of him. “Whatever. Idiot.” 


End file.
